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Chapter One

    Muddy water droplets hit my windshield, only to be quickly swept away by a beat-up windshield wiper. The many potholes in the country roads had filled with water from the recent storms. I was unused to worrying about either. SoCal was about as different from this rural Michigan as night is from day. Daydreaming of lush green forests and "Sweater Weather" while sweating in my little, shabby apartment in LA was a lot more idealistic than reality. The reality was that I didn't know what I was doing. And not just by moving across the country on a whim. I didn't know what I was doing with my degree, with my personal relationships, or my future in just about any way, shape, or form.
    I thought about my mother's advice as my body jolted from hitting another hole. My parents were drifters. They used the world of academia as a shield to hide the fact that they couldn't stay in one city (or country at this point) more than a couple months. Anthropology is their world. In high school, I resented that they were often gone on field work trips and not home parenting me. Now that I'm an adult, I realize they did the best they could without giving up who they were. I grew up with them lecturing at colleges, and as soon as I graduated high school, they went back to being full time traveling anthropologists. When I started to panic about graduation approaching and how I felt so unsatisfied with where I was, I called my mom. Her advice? When you're unhappy with where you are, move. And that's how easy it was for them. I thought maybe I had a little bit of that drifter DNA too. They are happy being lost, but now I'm thinking I'm just lost.
    My GPS interrupted the despairing thoughts swirling around in my head. The forest was getting less dense, and small houses were getting more frequent. My new school was a small private university, but they were known for their Biology program. I had visited once before officially accepting their transfer offer. Which was exactly why I had decided to live in the small town that surrounded the campus. They only had two decently-sized dorm buildings, and I knew that relationships would already be formed. I didn't want to label myself as the outcast from the moment I started. The apartment I was renting from was actually the very top floor of a converted Victorian-style house. It was a little worn, but it was about three times the size of my old one, came furnished, and costed about half of what I was paying in California.
    The broken up pavement crunched under my jeep's tires as I turned into the driveway of the beautiful white Victorian. It was a little dilapidated from years of rain, snow, and sunshine, but it was unlike anything I had seen in California. The windows were wide with small panes of detailing above each one. The wrap-around porch was wide and worn, but there was potted plants everywhere that set a well-loved tone.
    My hand twisted the key fob and grabbed my leather satchel before hopping down from the cab onto the dark, wet pavement. I was supposed to meet Emma, the landlady, so she could give me the keys, and even with my melancholy, I was excited. The wind whipped at my clothes as I jogged the short distance to the porch steps and knocked on the wooden door. Emma quickly opened the it for me and ushered me into the foyer.
    "Hey Wynter. How was the drive?" She asked as she slipped her long, black hair over her shoulder. She was a pretty woman in her mid-thirties, if I had to guess. Her features were always friendly, but she seemed somewhat reserved.
    "Interesting, I've never driven that long in my life. Even with stopping at night, it seemed like I was driving for three days straight." I answered as we walked up the large staircase. Part of the appeal of the house is that Emma kept all the original wood work, and it was absolutely gorgeous.
    Emma handed me a small set of keys when we reached the doors that led to the attic staircase. "Well, I'm sure you're ready to take a shower and crawl into bed then. I'll walk with you up to make sure everything is in order for you, but I'll be fast, I promise."
    I nodded, "Yeah, of course." It was only around eight-thirty, but the sun was starting to set, and my eyelids felt like they were being weighed down by sand bags. The old keys to the doors looked out of place next to the new set for the front door. Or maybe the new keys were out of place in this house that seemed stuck in history.
    As we climbed the staircase, I remember why I instantly signed the lease last time I was here. Most attics were dark and dank; however, this attic was bright and warm. The floor plan was completely open, so there was no wall separating the kitchen from the bedroom or the small living area. The only door led to an alcove from one of the roof peaks in the front of the house, that had been converted to the bathroom. The floors were stained a dark warm brown that contrasted beautifully with the white walls. There was a small kitchen with older appliances, and a black wrought iron bed with a naked mattress was directly opposite it. A brick chimney from floor to ceiling was in the very middle that was connected to what I imagined was a beautiful fireplace below. I had never been in Emma's part of the house, save the foyer, so I wouldn't know. But the best part were the windows. There was a large round window that faced the front of the house with a view of the road and town in the bathroom, and all the rest faced the back of the house. It was a beautiful view of the forests that surrounded the house.
    Emma was true to her word about being quick. After about fifteen minutes of her showing me around, reminding me about the different utilities and offering to help carry stuff in from the car (which I declined), she went back downstairs. When I heard the door click, signaling I was alone, I did a little happy dance and covered my mouth to muffle a laugh. It was embarrassing, but I couldn't contain my excitement.I thought I heard the front door open a couple times, but being in the attic meant I could hardly hear anything that happened on the first floor. 
    Pulling myself together, I walked back down the steps to start hulling my boxes up. I knew that I lived on the top floor, so I didn't pack much, figuring I could buy anything that I didn't have. I only had one box left when I met him. I was balancing my box between my hip and the side of the car to close it, when I heard the front door open and voices.
    "Thanks for stopping by to check on it. I'll let you know if anything else happens." I could hear Emma say.
    "You do that," was the masculine reply.
    I hiked the box up in my arms and turned around. And immediately wanted to disappear. Standing on the front porch facing Emma was easily the most attractive man I had ever seen. He was tall. Like 6 foot something tall. Well, I'm guessing he was that tall. He towered over Emma, and she was only a couple inches taller than me. His short brown hair that I would have thought was black except the remaining sunlight made it light up with carmel. And his body. Dear Lord, did this man have the best arms I've ever seen attached to a man. He was wearing a tight henley that should be illegal. I should have changed. My old jeans with holes in the knees from wear and my UCLA sweatshirt were so not cute. And my long red hair was scraped up into a shoddy ponytail. And why, oh why, couldn't I have at least chucked on some mascara?
    And- Oh my God, he said something to me. Wynter, stop having a mental breakdown, and act like a human. "I'm sorry what was that?" I shuffled the box higher.
    He jogged down the porch to me. "I asked if you had many boxes left?" His piercing hazel eyes were staring down into mine, and I think that should be good enough excuse of why my brain was going on a fritz.
    "Uh, no?" That was a question. I tried again. "No, no. This is my last." I tried to smile at the end. I think it was a smile. I really hoped that's what my face was doing because it naturally wanted to go slack jawed like an idiot.
    "I can take it up from you. I know Emma's house isn't exactly moving friendly with all those stairs." His full lips stretched into a small smile. Maybe this was Emma's man. Especially if he knows her house that intimately, right? And they seemed close in age. Why hadn't I thought of that before I started to mentally undress him?
    I reflexively pulled the box away a little too fast as I watched him reach for it. "I'm okay. Thanks for the offer though!" I tried to sound peppy, even though I had just acted like a jerk.
    He kept his own small smile in place, though it looked like it took a little more effort than before. "Okay, well, it was nice meeting you Wynter. Bye Emma!" He called up to her as he threw up a hand, before turning toward the truck parked across the street. I watched as he paused for a minute, and his head lifted in the air. It was almost like he was smelling something. Weird. But as soon as he lifted his head, the wind blew my hair into my face from the opposite direction and when I straightened it, he was climbing into his truck.
    I turned to walk up to where Emma was holding the door for me. "Thanks," I mumbled as I walked threw. I went to walk up the stairs, but thought of something. "Hey Emma," I turned back to her.
    "Yeah?" She had a knowing smile on her face.
    "Uh, I didn't manage to catch his name?" My face was definitely getting warm.
    Emma didn't even try to hide her small grin. "I thought you looked a little preoccupied when I was making the introductions. His name is Wulfric. He helps me out around here," she waved a hand to indicate the house, "sometimes. I can't always afford to call someone to come out here, so he helps with what he can."
    "Ah, that's nice." I smiled a little awkwardly. "Well, have a good night." I turned and climbed the stairs.
    A little later, after I had made the bed and taken a quick shower, I layed down in bed and fell asleep replaying our meeting again. But this time I said all the right things, and right before I drifted to sleep, he brushed a piece of my hair back, and I swear I could almost feel the warmth of his hand on my skin.